Fire Sanctuary

by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel

  “Atare, I—“

  “I insist!” Braan rolled on, ignoring her flaming cheeks. “You see us as an off-worlder, even as you become more Nualan. It is an important duality. And if you fear to jump in, you are welcome to ask permission first! Duty calls me, lady. I must finish those 3Avs, and then I shall send them to you. We shall need a synopsis by tierce tomorrow; things will start early, I am afraid.” Not waiting for her response, Braan quickly entered the caverns. He paused inside to let his heartbeat slow, amazed at his response. Troubled dreams, and Teloa had been in them ... not as a simple scripter. Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Braan returned to his room.

  THE GATHERING

  COMPLINE

  Lyte’s head was simply too full of wine. He looked for, and found, a rock more sheltered than most and slid down beside it. That was a mistake; if he didn’t end up falling asleep it would be a miracle. Clutching the mug of hot saffra he’d been carrying, he took a careful sip. Too bad it wasn’t coffee, he could use some caffeine.

  “There you are!” Lyte was startled, but fortunately did not dump the drink all over himself. Shinar—where had she been all day? He had actually taken time out of his wanderings to seek her, something he rarely did. Usually his women sought him. Maybe with Kal. If that man didn’t shape up soon, blast him; Shinar needed him. “You look preoccupied, shall I come back?” the woman went on, hesitating to sit.

  “No, no, I was looking for you earlier.”

  “Ah-huh. Try again.”

  Lyte looked annoyed. “Stop sounding like Moran. You’d know if I lied, wouldn’t you? Yes, I spent a large portion of the day admiring several ladies, and some of them reciprocated. Just for the records, I also like intelligent, beautiful company as an alternative—” He stopped when he saw her smile. Lords, I’m losing my sense of humor. It bothered him when he knew he was telling the truth.

  “I am sorry. I shall not say it again, not even teasing.” She settled down next to him, both careless and confident of their relationship, Lyte slipping an arm around her. Snuggling into their woolen ponchos, thankful for the warmth, they watched the stars begin to pop out.

  “Good thing this is what Roe calls south, I’d hate for it to be any colder,” Lyte said. “I get frostbite when my liquor’s iced.”

  Shinar hugged him. “Up around Atare city the snow is very deep this time of winter. Tolis also should have snow. I hope they are protected from the weather.”

  “Are you feeling better?” He looked down at her as she twisted slightly in his arms to see his face.

  “What made you say that?”

  “I heard you were ill this morning.”

  It was dark behind the rock; she could not see his face, but his voice was concerned. She relaxed—her friends had respected her right to tell him before any others. “It passes. It is not really illness.”

  “How can you have a hangover before the party?”

  Shinar laughed. “It is because I am pregnant. It will go on for awhile.”

  “You’re pregnant?” He sounded puzzled, not surprised. “You should have said something, we could have, well—for your comfort—”

  “I just found out.” Shinar suddenly realized that Lyte had made no connection.

  “I didn’t think that could be kept a secret from the mother,” Lyte was continuing.

  “Or the father. It is ours, Lyte. It is barely fiftyday along. I am not even positive I have felt it move yet; it may be my imagination.” She paused, remembering he was off-world—knowing that they handled these things differently. She was not prepared for the reaction.

  Lyte literally went rigid, as if he was afraid to move. There was no sound for a moment. “Ours?” A whisper, the question incredulous.

  “You understand what this means, do you not?”

  “Roe ... mentioned your customs—”

  “But do you remember?” Shinar insisted, turning to face him. “It is ‘Oh, that is great, another little person, be sure to get more rest, drink plenty of fluids and take your vitamins,’ and that is it for now. Do you see? No more, no less.” The young woman did not know what else to say. Lyte had not relaxed in the slightest. He was clearly cold sober, though.

  Lyte set down his mug, aware that he had begun to shake. Too much wine, way too much wine. No, you heard correctly, a child. Ours, mine. Lords, what have I done? He shifted, the firelight silhouetting him, staring out into darkness.

  “Of course, that does not mean I can carry it to term. The extra radiation has caused many to lose babies or not conceive at all.” She gripped his shoulder. “You do not like children.”

  “No, it’s not—” He lowered his head to hide his confusion. He did not want ties here. What had he done? How could he leave, should he take her, would she go? She loved another man! She also loved him, “differently.”

  “Lyte, you do not have to marry me. Or support the child financially. Or include it in a will, even! You have given it life. The only other thing you owe it is love and consideration.”

  “I think the other would be easier.” He turned back to her. “Shinar, I am hoping to leave this planet as soon as possible, I don’t belong here, and I am not totally convinced Moran belongs here! This is not fair to you, or it, or—“

  “How?” she said bluntly.

  “What?”

  “How do you intend to get off Nuala?”

  Lyte paused. “A ship—”

  “What ship? Where? Except for the three that had skeleton crews on board, none escaped the bombing. Do you think precious metals will be used to build star transports when we are simply struggling to survive? Be realistic. Only Nualan ships pass the barrier. Even if the Griffon and the others made it to free space; to return through enemy lines to Nuala, and then return again to the Axis? Even I can tell a better fantasy!”

  “Shinar, I—“ Lyte’s voice had changed subtly.

  “All that is required of you is a little emotional support for me and a little affection for the child when it is born. Do not tell me you are incapable of giving it. Unwilling, possibly; afraid, yes. Unable, not likely.” She stopped, finished with her speech.

  “Shinar, I can only try....”

  Something in his voice made her reach up and touch his face. She gasped in amazement to find tears—just tears, no catastrophic upheaval behind them. She pulled him close. “Lyte?”

  “It’s all right. I’m all right, it’s just—“ There was no easy way to explain his confusion. He carefully embraced her, suddenly fearful he might hurt her.

  “I will not break, silly.”

  “I am very ... surprised,” he said, his tone almost sheepish. “I guess I feel ... old. It’s hard to pretend to be a kid when you have one of your own.” The last sentence was a whisper.

  Shinar held him tightly, trying to comfort him, trying to understand his fear and confusion which she felt as keenly as the cold. “Come on, it has been a long day. I need sleep!” She released him and pulled him to his feet, grabbing his mug as she did so. “You will feel more confident in the morning. All you have to do tonight is keep me warm, and if you cannot manage it, my bed has a nice comforter on it.”

  Lyte laughed weakly. “I’ve never spent the night with a woman in my arms without—Well, maybe I’d better learn.” He faced her, trying to dredge up a smile. “I get cold sometimes, too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  NUAMURA FIELDS

  ONEHUNDRED EIGHTYDAY, TIERCE

  Ronüviel heard the carillon chime four bells. Lord, only tierce—what with the heat, she felt as if it was mid-afternoon instead of mid-morning. The bitter cold of the short winter seemed far away. The Amurans had been up since lauds, working feverishly to finish the winter harvest before the monsoons hit. Roe opened her eyes to look toward old Amura and beyond, to the sea. It was dark, threatening. Rain was coming, long, hard rain; and after the rainfall ended, the spring planting would begin.

  “Do you mind company?” She looked up. Moran stood next to her, stripped to
his joqurs and glistening with sweat. She offered him her water gourd. “Thank you.” He took a drink and then settled down under the towering bush for a rest. The eyes studying her were intense. “You have been healing again. You need to conserve your strength. How is Elana?”

  “Better. I was able to ease the stress and control the alpha wave pattern.” She flexed her fingers, a faint glow briefly touching the tips.

  “Why can you do that?” His voice was neutral, and her reply was a blank look.

  Roe shifted her weight. “You have never asked me that before,” she answered. “And it is usually the reason off-worlders do or do not talk to me.” She studied her hands, wishing she could use some of the energy to ease her own discomfort; she knew the effort would only tire her more. “We suspect it is a modification of the sini gene. A mutation of the mutation, if you will. It is the same form of radiating heat, but instead of destroying the body and anything near it, it actually improves health. I do not feel like I really heal anything. It is like using a low-grade electrical charge to speed the recovery of a bone break, for instance.” She looked distant. “It can be a burden, too. I was always on the outside looking in while I was at Helix University. People envy it, resent it, fear it. Or put great demands upon my time and talents. I cannot work miracles, I cannot keep the dying alive. But people get strange ideas about what can and cannot be done. It does have one blessing attached, though.”

  “What is that?”

  “Never has it been recorded that a family line has had a sini appear once a healer has been born. That is comforting. It would be like a knife in the heart, to lose them after carrying them so long.”

  “Gid has remained close to his family,” Moran objected.

  “Gid is an exception. He and his sister were placed together. It made things easier for them to get to Tolis once a year. It has always been awkward, the crossover generation, no matter which way the child travels.” Conversation ceased as she spotted Braan and Teloa, walking together in the vineyard and talking softly. She looked over at her husband, her eyes sparkling.

  “You look very pleased,” Moran told her, trying to tone down his own smile.

  “I admit it. I like Tay; I love her. She is a survivor—she would make a good Atarae.”

  “Then why doesn’t Braan confess she attracts him and do something about it?”

  Roe shrugged. “He thinks he guards his heart. In the meantime Tay steals his soul. She is so beautiful, I believe he keeps his distance so she will not fear she is just one more body. I have a feeling there has been too much of that in her life.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Moran agreed.

  Roe shot him a sharp glance but said nothing. Teloa’s soft laughter floated to their ears. Her laugh was like murmuring water in a shallow creek bed. Only hearing her speak in Caprican was more soothing. The language was swifter and smoother than her humor, but no less delightful. Such a game those two were playing: Tay seeing other men; Braan no longer beating off the flocks of women constantly in attendance.

  “Oh!” The whisper escaped before she could control it.

  Moran sat up, visibly concerned about her continuing false pains. “Bad?” he asked. She reached over in reply and tightly gripped his hand. “Breathe properly.” The spasm passed, and her fingers relaxed. “Another false alarm?”

  “I am very tired, belaiss. Can we start back to the caverns? Zair’s lady hound is whelping, and Prinz promised me a puppy for each baby. I think everyone knows it is twins, if he does.” Moran braced himself behind and to one side of her, helping her to her feet.

  Suddenly Teloa was there, her face lined with concern. She reached for Roe’s arm. “Are you all right, Roe? You look pale. You’ve been walking too much, let’s get you back to your room.”

  “I think that is a good idea,” Roe gasped. “I do not want these two coming before they are good and ready.” She glanced over at her brother, now deep in conversation with his son Dylan. “He shall be a godfather before he knows it.”

  “He’ll be wet before he knows it, the rain’s coming. Let’s move!” At Moran’s command they started across the field toward the foothills. It was usually a ten minute walk, but Roe knew she would not be able to move at a normal pace. They looked up to see a face briefly appear at the cavern entrance. Roe bent her head to concentrate on walking but was not surprised when Kavan arrived at her side.

  “Let me,” he said quietly to Teloa, and the tall woman sprinted ahead of them into the cool darkness.

  “I do not think ... this is false labor,” Roe got out, doubling over in pain. Kalith was also visible before the cave, his normally expressionless features tense. Together the three of them were able to get her into the cavern and up to her room.

  “Good thing some of the family units are completed,” Kavan said as they set Roe on her bed. “A little privacy is nice.”

  “Sure, if you want a room to yourself, get pregnant,” Roe replied, gripping the sheets to stop her hands from shaking. “I think I would have reconsidered living on top, if I had known how hard it would be to get up those stairs. I should have demanded they finish the lifts.” Too much pain, too soon. Please, not so soon.

  Elana entered the room. “Thank you. Good-bye, Kal and Kavan.” She was activating her monitor as she spoke. A few adjustments and she turned to the now present Teloa and Liel, asking them to bring various supplies and two other healers. Then she whirled to Moran. “You are timing?”

  “I had nothing to time with, but she’s breathing properly,” he answered, reaching for the timespot on the built-in shelf.

  Shinar breezed into the starlit terrace, radiating confidence. She was not as heavy as some so far along. Roe’s grip tightened on Moran’s wrist as she gave in to another contraction, oblivious to everything else.

  “Liel, I want the Atare guaard on this door. And Braan must be found—he should witness the birth of his heir. Good-bye, this is going to take awhile,” Elana said.

  “Moran, talk to me,” Roe suddenly said.

  “No, you talk to me” was the reply. “You said at firstmeal you had a new story, one about Baskh’s predecessor. Tell it!”

  “A story? Now?”

  “Better than thinking about the pain. There’s time until the next contraction, I’ll give you plenty of warning,” Moran went on. He settled onto one elbow, his head bent close to hers, neither paying any attention to the healers bringing in the standby equipment. Roe took a deep breath and then began to speak, her voice taking on the mysterious and vibrant quality of a master mythmaker.

  “Long ago and worlds away, from the second year of the reign of Curr Atare Moonraker, greatest of the modern sea monarchs, comes a tale—“

  oOo

  COMPLINE

  The small group watched as Agape rose into the dome of the heavens, taking its place above Eros and Philios. Three very slender crescents, their sizes varying depending on how much of Nuala blocked off Kee’s light. Already moonrise. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance.

  Gone. The moons. Lyte had only glanced away, and now blackness. The thunder roared louder. A hand touched his shoulder, and Lyte looked up to see Teloa.

  “The rains come. As long as the planet is good to us, we have a chance,” Tay said quietly. “Are you ready for a thirtysixday of rain? Liel says sometimes it’s like that.”

  A splatter of rain hit his hand, and then another. He pulled back from the ledge of the terrace, staring out to greet the downpour. Steady and hard but not deafening. The thunder still growled, low and menacing. Lyte averted his gaze as a many-forked tree of lightning leapt across the sky. He caught himself wondering if it would strike the mountains.

  He knew Moran had been a nervous wreck since vespers, when Elana had determined a possible need for surgery and had thrown both father and ruler out of the sleeping room. Shinar had explained why—another off-worlder married to an Atare serae had panicked recently during a delivery, and with the possible heirs, Roe’s first, no chances would
be taken. It was a matter of state. Lyte knew “matters of state” could rarely be swept aside; he often forgot that Nuala was a functional, not a symbolic monarchy. But next time Moran would be present. As father of the future Atare or Ragäree, or both, Lyte knew he would gain power, which he would enjoy using in just such cases. So long for babies to be born. And Roe was fragile. Braan said that once, that she continued on willpower alone.

  The rain grew harder. Moran turned slightly to Braan. “The harvest is complete,” Braan said, anticipating his question. They both flinched as a great thunderclap shook the room.

  “I thought babies were only born during storms in stories,” Lyte quipped.

  “I was born in a storm,” Liel replied. “Elana says her deliveries ran about fifty-fifty. And she prefers storms, or just after. She says it takes her mind off the pain.”

  “That sounds like Elana,” Arrez began warmly. “She ...“ The priest hesitated only a moment, but it was long enough for a thin cry to intervene. The crowd grew silent, listening to the fragile life gain volume in its first protest to the world.

  How long until the next? Minutes or hours? It seemed like only seconds later that Shinar came out of the bedroom. Every face except Moran’s turned to her as another voice rose to replace the first. It was somehow harsher, more emotional, but clearly a different sound. Moran stood and moved toward the partition. Smiling, Shinar indicated he should wait a few moments before entering.

  “Have I an heir?” Braan asked.

  Shinar laughed. “Covered on both accounts. Mendülay has blessed us. Atare and Ragäree to be, and our Ragäree shall be fine. The womanchild is elder, by almost twenty minutes.” Shinar sobered a moment. “One was a breech, and caused some anxious moments. But the tearing was mild, and surgery not necessary.” The small crowd relaxed, conversation bursting from them. Lyte glanced around; Moran had vanished.